419 Maple Street
by Must-Be-Thursday
Summary: In 2014 The Winchesters and Castiel close the gates to heaven and hell. The brothers and a newly human Castiel settle down in a small town to start a new life. Platonic domestic Wincestiel.
1. Prologue

**419 Maple Street**

**Prologue**

* * *

It was the Spring of 2014. There had been no apocalypse. No Croatoan virus. The Winchesters and company had closed off both heaven and hell. There were no more demons and no more angels except Cas, and he had given up his grace to stay behind. It was just humanity on their own for the first time since their creation. The Winchesters decided they could stand to take a break from the life. Things would be slow from now on, just run of the mill monsters. Other hunters could take care of it, both Kevin and Garth had their numbers in case something big turned up. They would keep in contact, they could do research, ease into weekend hunts before giving it up all together.

During a stay in another skuzzy hotel room in Nowhereville USA, Sam tacked a map to the wall, spun around three times, and stuck a pin into it. His pin landed in Thorp, Wisconsin. The next day Sam, and Dean, and newly human Castiel packed up their meager belongings and left.

* * *

Everything was blue and everything was bright on Maple street. Blue and bright like a child's drawing where the sky came all the way down to meet the crayola green grass. A man was pushing his son on a bicycle, the newly removed training wheels glinting on the lawn.

Dean was straddling the roof of a mint green, one story house. In one hand was a staple gun, in the other a can of beer. A small battery-powered radio, sitting on the chimney, played tinny rock music while he stapled roof tiles in place.

The house had two bathrooms and two bedrooms. One of the bedrooms had immediately been transformed into an office, basically a room for all their books on demonology, one large desk, and an old desktop that Cas used to look up cat videos on the internet. The other had been stuffed with the biggest bed money could buy, the Winchester warehouse of flannels shirts, denim in various states of wear, novelty boxers favored by a certain exangel (Hearts, superheros, sports team logos), and exactly eight and one half pairs of socks.(The half pair was one of Castiel's hand knitted socks and no one had the heart to throw it out.)

The house also had a large sun-lit kitchen, where Sam was currently finishing unpacking new pots and pans while stirring a large pot of chilli. Just off the kitchen was a small dining room with a beautiful, shiny, oak table and four chairs. And beyond that was the long living room with a giant(And possibly illegally gained) television, one over stuffed armchair with a touchy footrest release pedal, and a set of matching blue plaid couch and love seat.

While Sam made chilli, Cas split his time evenly between folding clean laundry off the line and making sure Dean hadn't fallen off the roof. He shaded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and squinted up at the roof. Dean set down his staple gun and waved to him.

When they had bought the house, it was the very beginning of Spring. The trio had peeled wallpaper, fixed a leaky faucet, and rehung a hanging window shutter. The next day, Dean would borrow Sam's truck to haul lumber and paint. He promised Cas that he would eventually build him a gazebo. But that was for later. Right now all he wanted to do was eat a big bowl of Sam's chilli, watch some football in his armchair, the finally crawl into bed where he could be close to his two favorite people.


	2. The Radishes of Madison County

**419 Maple Street**

**Chapter One: The Radishes of Madison County **

**Summer 2014**

* * *

There were worse hobbies than gardening. Coin collecting and being a philatelist came to mind, both seemed exceedingly boring. Gardening was soothing and somewhere along the line Sam had developed something of a green thumb. He had the lushest, greenest garden in the neighborhood. He made pickles so delicious they made grown men cry. At the local church bake sale, there was a near riot when they sold out of his strawberry rhubarb pie. None of that mattered now.

Right now he was standing at the end of a long table under a canvas tent, looking at two of the largest watermelons he had ever seen. One was his, he had grown it slowly over the Summer, watering it, wedding around it, talking to it, secretly playing classical music to it when he thought Dean wasn't watching. At first his brother made fun of him, laughing at his oversized sunhat, calling his hobby girly (Dean had taken up woodworking in his spare time, he made Sam a rocking chair), telling him he better not drag dirt into bed, and just generally being a pain in the ass. After one of Sam's watermelons reached normal size and then kept going, it was actually Dean's idea to enter a contest at the county fair.

The other melon on the table belonged to Verna Keller. Verna was sixty-seven years old, wore brilliant white dentures, coral lipstick, and only came to Sam's hip if she was wearing heels. She had also been gardening since before Sam was even thought of. Sam had never been more afraid of someone in his life, he would rather try and thwart another apocalypse then stand next to her. Since Verna had grown the blue ribbon winner every year for the last forty(Except 1968 when she was busy giving birth), she expected to win. Some young punk with a bag of miracle grow wasn't going to usurp her.

While Sam stood and sweated in the Summer heat, he watched Dean lead Cas by the hand around the fair grounds. His brother chomped on a corndog that had to be at least a foot long while Castiel picked daintily at a funnel cake. They brought Sam a sno cone. It was watermelon flavored. He didn't appreciate the irony.

The pair took off toward the ferris wheel, Sam watched them until they disappeared into the crowd at the bottom of the ride. He could see the judges coming down the line of tables with their clipboards and a scale. They stopped in front of a selection of phallic looking cucumbers. Sam drummed his fingers on the plastic table top.

Verna was surrounded by friends and admirers. Eventually Dean and Cas wandered back, bumping shoulders and laughing.(Later Dean would take Cas on a roller coaster. Cas will get sick and never go on another ride again. Dean would spend that night feeding Cas tea and babying him.) The judges were strolling up to them, Sam and Verna shook hands with each one. More and more people began to crowd around the two competitors. Sam suddenly wished he was at home instead, in bed with Dean snoring softly with his dog-eared copy of _Deadeye Dick_ open on his chest, and Cas doing the grocery list while Scratching Sam's scalp absently like he was a very large cat.

The judge, the one with a mustache, set down the scale. He and one of the other judges grunted and heaved Verna Keller's watermelon into it. It was a huge green oblong with darker green stripes. It had one pale circle from where it rested on the ground. There was not a single speck of dirt on it. It was perfect. It weighed 76.7 pounds. Sam gnawed a hangnail.

The process was quickly repeated with Sam's watermelon. It was equally verdant and beautiful. It was at its perfect peak, it had only left its spot in the bright August sunshine this morning. Sam had held it in his lap the whole ride to the fair even though it was extremely heavy. The needle on the scale swung pendulously for a moment, then stopped. Sam Winchester's watermelon weighed 78 pounds. Verna Keller saw this and her face crumpled like a paper bag.

That afternoon Sam, Dean, and Cas sat under Castiel's gazebo and ate Sam's blue ribbon watermelon while bees buzzed in their ears. Sam thought nothing else had ever tasted as good.

* * *

**Notes:** A reference to The Bridges of Madison County (A book/movie), because I think I'm clever. The world's largest watermelon weighed 268.8 pounds and was grown in Hope, Arkansas. The average watermelon weighs between 10 an 45 pounds.


	3. Eligible Bachelor

**419 Maple Street**

**Chapter 3: Eligible Bachelor**

* * *

Dean Winchester was the owner/operator of Winchester Auto, the owner of the most tools in the tiny town of Thorp, he also owned the only tow truck in seventy miles. He had pulled elderly ladies out of ditches, hauled teenager's trucks out of the local mud hole, and ran an auto 911 line that people could call to come rescue them from the side of the road, or help change a tire.

All of these things combined to make Dean one of the most popular men in town. He was the recipient of invites to poker games, Sunday night football parties, tailgates, BBQs, and on one memorable occasion he was asked to be the best man at his assistant manager, Benjamin Lee's wedding.

When the community center's air conditioning went out in the middle of a late August heat wave, Dean was called. When a neighbor's washing machine started making loud thumping noises, they called Dean. He could always be counted on to bring his toolbox and a smile, and occasionally Sam. (Who was a handyman in his own right.)

Being one of the small pool of eligible bachelors in Thorp, Dean was also hounded by the female (And sometimes male) population for dates and information on his love life. All offers were declined after the first time. He had unwisely accepted a date with Annabel Rumsberg and found out the next day from Cas that some of the ladies in his knitting group were playing matchmaker and if he didn't watch out he could end up married. Luckily Annabel had found Ben and they were getting married next Spring.

* * *

Dean had also taken up carpentry and furniture making. He had set up a work bench in a shed out back and filled it with saws, and drills, and all that stuff. He started with a thick how to manual for beginners. It took several weeks, but he managed to cobble together a pretty decent bookshelf. The three men set it up in the living room and Cas wasted no time covering it in their books about knitting, and gardening, and carpentry, and bee keeping. Dean kept at it, he built a rocking chair for Sam, and some patio furniture for the back yard. Eventually he felt confident enough to build Cas his gazebo.

On one of the cooler early summer days, he drug out his tools, a stack of lumber, and a post hole digger he had rented from the hardware store where Sam worked. He dug the four post holes and filled them with cement. By the time they were dry, the sun had risen to the middle of the June sky. Sam was nearby in the garden, pretending he wasn't talking to a watermelon. (He totally was.) Castiel was seated in a slice of shade near Dean's work shed with his nose in a seed catalog and a pitcher of lemonade.

The week before, Dean had sawed and sanded and nailed the walls together. Now all he had to do was put them up. They were joined together like an accordion and he simply unfolded the walls and screwed them into place. He dusted his hands on his pants and went to get a glass of lemonade.

* * *

A week later Cas came out and planted several vines of morning glories. They covered the sides of the gazebo, their deep purple blooms opening with the sun and gone by noon. On the long summer nights where the sun didn't go down until at least nine, the three men would sit in the gazebo, drink beer, and watch the stars.


	4. Bitch and Stitch

**419 Maple Street**

**Chapter Four: Bitch and Stitch**

**Winter 2014**

* * *

Castiel had been working at the William J. Thorp Memorial Library as a page since late May. The two head librarians had strong armed him into doing a number of things including joining the local church choir, recruiting Sam for bake sales, and becoming a member of the Glory Bees knitting group.

Every Wednesday Dean and Sam drove Cas to Burke Lutheran Church, his red knitting bag with_ 'Keep Calm and Craft On'_ written on it in his lap. When he gets there he perches in his usual spot in the center of a threadbare floral couch.

The Wednesday evening knitting group was run by a score of tough as nails grandmothers, lead by a woman named Irene Perinovic. They had two objectives: Knit blankets for homeless shelters, (Objectively what they were really there for.) and to marry off any unattached grandchildren. They were very very good at the latter.

* * *

"Hello dear. Ooh look at that color, that's lovely." Irene remarked, settling her ample behind on the cushion next to Castiel.

Cas set his needles and ball of yarn in his lap. "Thank you Mrs. Perinovic." He pulled a pair of sewing scissors out of his bag. "How's Ashley?" Ashley was Irene's granddaughter. She worked at Hardwick's Hardware with Sam.

"She's good." her voice led Cas to believe otherwise. "How're the boys?" The boys were Sam and Dean.

"They're well." Castiel said, and meant it. Everyone in town was always interested to hear about Thorp's three most eligible bachelors, Dean and Sam Winchester, and their cousin Castiel Novak.

Suddenly the chatter in the room quieted down a bit as Verna Keller entered the room. She shuffled past Cas and Irene on her way to her usual seat in a little rocker in the corner of the room. On the way by she gave Cas a scowl and what might have been a slight growl. Cas though he saw Irene bare her teeth in a distinctly unfriendly way.

"I don't think Verna is ever going to forgive Sam for beating her at the county fair. Don't pay her any mind." Irene whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Other than church missions and unwed ladies, Sam's big summer upset was the most popular topic of conversation.

* * *

A few other ladies had trickled in, including Victoria Rumsberg, head librarian at William J. Thorp Memorial Library. Victoria's granddaughter Annabel was set to marry Dean's assistant manager Benjamin Lee come Spring. Her smug and gloating joy about the match had all the other women in matchmaker overdrive, pairing off grandchildren like they were about to expire. They were worse than a garrison of cupids.

Time wore on as it was wont to do and before Castiel knew it, his latest project was flowing over his lap and onto the floor. The whole time Irene had been talking his ear off about a trip she had taken to The Dells with her other grandkids, something about waterslides. And then there was a cruise to Alaska to natter about. Every couple of minutes one of the Winchester brothers would stick their head in the door, failing entirely at discretion. They usually didn't stay but it was winter, there wasn't much to do at home. Besides there were almost certain Cas would either come out of the room married off or in cahoots with the wily codgers.

"Do you have an idea what Sam will be planting next year? Mavis says it will be a good summer for cucumbers and those pickles last year were so good, I swear I ate three jars myself." she elbows him in the ribs good-naturedly. He gave her a meek smile. "Oh and my roses, you know my roses?"

Cas replied in the affirmative. Irene was to prize-winning flowers what Verna was to absurdly sized produce. He swore (albeit blasphemy) that her lawn was more beautiful and lush than Eden. Her favorites seemed to be the large, palm sized yellow blossoms whose clusters of blooms were draped over a large trellis leaning against her house.

"Anyway, they'll be ready for pruning and transplanting soon if you're interested." she said settling her needles in her lap and looking at Cas over the rims of her spectacles.

"I thought I would stick with the morning glories. I find them more aesthetically pleasing." he paused, then remembering his manners thanked her.

Irene thought on that a moment, decided he wasn't insulting her flowers, and resumed talking a mile a minute about something else.

"So have you gotten your invitation to Annabel's wedding yet? Ours came in the mail yesterday, very tasteful. A spring wedding. Isn't that nice?"

Cas and the Winchesters had received their invites the day before also, Dean had been asked to be best man weeks ago anyway. At first he was happy and excited for Ben who had become a very close friend over the year, he then spent the rest of the day complaining about having to wear a suit again. He was supposed to be retired.

"Ashley is going, you know she's quite fond of you." Castiel knew this was either an outright lie or a carefully constructed fabrication. He hadn't spoken more than fifteen words to the woman in his time in Thorp. "You should consider being her plus one."

Luckily sarcastic eye rolling was not a habit he had picked up from the Winchesters. Instead he picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater. He took a peek at the door. He could see Dean leaning casually in the door frame, and above his head was Sam very obviously eavesdropping. The Glory Bees would start leaving any minute.

He gave a very small sigh as he tucked his nearly finished work into his knitting bag. "I'm afraid I'm already spoken for." he quipped, tossing the bag over his shoulder and heading toward the door.


	5. Hot Wings

******Note: I was going to be done with this series but they are really fun to write and cheer me up so there are going to be more although I don't know how many.**

* * *

It started with a tshirt.

The Thomas Pub reportedly had the hottest hot wings in town, a statement which Dean Winchester planned to put to the test. Five 'Angel Apocalypse' wings and he would get the tshirt. He had conquered one apocalypse, he could handle this one too.

He was wrong.

The wings were covered in a sauce made of ground Trinidad Moruga Scorpion chillies (The new reigning champion of the Scoville scale), tabasco sauce, vinegar, and essence of pain. The chef wouldn't even store the sauce inside the pub, she mixed it up out back with a wooden paddle (Wooden because it ate through plastic and metal), wearing goggles and at least two pairs of gloves.

There were tears, a lot of tears.

Napkins didn't help, beer and water made it worse. Milkshakes and kaluha with cream barely managed to tame the flames that had begun as sweet and slightly spicy then developed into the fiery lake of hell. If anyone was qualified to make that comparison it was Dean. The sauce burned the skin around his mouth and his hands, it caused intense pain wherever it touched. But Dean sucked it up and ripped the flesh off the last wing.

That was a mistake.

He gave a triumphant cry and pumped his fist in the air...immediately regretting it and curling an arm around his cramping stomach. On either side of him Sam and Castiel exchanged a knowing but worried look.

Sam put his arm around Dean's shoulder and led him out to the impala while Castiel collected Dean's prize and assured the proprietor that no one would be puking in their establishment. The back door creaked as Sam opened it to drape a groaning Dean over the backseat. Cas had rummaged around under a seat until he found a plastic bag that would have to do in case of an emergency.

* * *

When they arrived home the two put Dean neatly to bed. Cas fetched a big pot from the kitchen and sets it next to the bed while Sam gently removed Dean's shoes and socks before manhandling Dean into some sleeping clothes. He props spare pillows under his brother's back and lays a cool cloth across his forehead. He uses another to get the remaining sauce off his hands so it doesn't end up all over the bed and/or Sam and Castiel.

Dean is shaking from the effort of retaining the contents of his stomach. He is sweating heavily and the smell of it fills the room until Castiel marches in with one of his lavender aroma therapy candles. He also cracks the window, letting a slight breeze work the scent out of the room. Sam is by Dean's side, now sitting on the bed wiping the sweat off his face and near cooing at him and if Dean didn't think he would throw up, he would protest such treatment.

After Castiel finishes with the candles, he shucks his jeans and crawls into bed on the other side of Dean. He rubs soothing circles on Dean's troubled tummy, urges him to drink water, runs his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. Sam had rung out the towel and cooled it again, and it felt divine against Dean's face. His sasquatch of a brother had tunneled under the blanket on his other side and Dean was now the filling in a brother, angel sandwich that seemed intent on cuddling his stomach pain into submission. After a few more agonizing minutes, his body gave up on being awake and he nestled deeper into the pool of limbs surrounding him. Sam and Cas exchanged another look, this one relieved.

They never let Dean enter another eating contest again.


End file.
